


5 Times People Bit Jon (And He Enjoyed It)

by aunt_zelda



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Relationship, Asexuality Spectrum, Biting, F/M, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Masochism, M/M, Marking, Mild Blood, Painplay, Sensation Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aunt_zelda/pseuds/aunt_zelda
Summary: “Could you … I mean …” Jon feels heat rising to his face. “Do that again?”Georgie barks out a laugh, giving him a playful shove. At his expression she stops laughing. “Really?”“… yeah.” Jon looks down at his arm. The mark is fading fast, it was only a joke after all. He’s been silly.“Ok. Let’s do this properly then.” Georgie scoots closer to him and takes his face in her hands. “Didn’t think you were the vampire type, Mr. Sims,” she lowers her voice, still teasing, but a little daring now, full of promise.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 49
Kudos: 813





	5 Times People Bit Jon (And He Enjoyed It)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm ace. I'm not a fan of kissing for myself. I love reading it, writing, it, seeing it in movies, but myself? Eugh.  
> I love biting though.
> 
> Got an idea today of what if Jon loved biting too, and what if other people bit him. And then less than 3 hours later this fic was written and I have no idea how I wrote it so fast. I was super burnt out from last week at work and this is wild to me.

1.

It starts as a joke. He and Georgie are sprawled out on her couch, Jon attempting to study and Georgie having already finished her reading assignment. She pokes at his arm, he elbows her side, she nudges his foot off the ottoman, he prods her with the book he’s reading. 

Georgie leans down and nips him on the arm. 

Jon yelps and jolts, the book slipping from his hands. 

“Hah, I win!” Georgie cheers. 

Jon can’t help but smile, because it’s a ridiculous situation. But there’s something else, tugging at the back of his mind. 

“Could you … I mean …” Jon feels heat rising to his face. “Do that again?” 

Georgie barks out a laugh, giving him a playful shove. At his expression she stops laughing. “Really?” 

“… yeah.” Jon looks down at his arm. The mark is fading fast, it was only a joke after all. He’s been silly. 

“Ok. Let’s do this properly then.” Georgie scoots closer to him and takes his face in her hands. “Didn’t think you were the vampire type, Mr. Sims,” she lowers her voice, still teasing, but a little daring now, full of promise. 

“Have you done this before?” Jon asks, hating the quaver in his tone.

“Oh yes. Don’t worry, I’ll be very gentle.” Georgie dips down to nuzzle the side of his neck. “Hmmmm … I think right here …” she trails her lips along his skin, and suddenly latches on, swirling her tongue and letting her teeth graze his neck. 

Jon gasps and clutches at her desperately. They nearly tumble off the couch, scattering papers and books to the floor as Jon flails and Georgie clings to him. 

“You like it?” Georgie asks, when she lets go at last. 

“Yes.” Jon gasps out. 

“Mmm, interesting,” Georgie traces a finger delicately over the fresh mark on his neck. 

Jon makes an embarrassingly needy sound. 

“Oh, I think I like it too.” Georgie beams. “One more for the list, yeah?” She scrambles over to the paper tacked on the wall. She adds “biting” to the column under “yes.”

Jon collapses onto the couch and reaches up to trace the mark himself. It stings. He smiles. 

After that day, Jon wears a lot of scarves during his relationship with Georgie. 

2\. 

“Bite me.” 

It’s not an unusual response during a snarky argument. 

Jon’s “You wish” retort is. 

Tim’s eyes go wide. “Why, boss,” he smirks, leaning against the desk with far too much suggestion in the tilt of his posture. “I didn’t know you cared about me like that.”

“I don’t.” Jon says quickly, looking down at his paperwork. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

“ _Tim_!” Jon shakes his head, aghast and flustered all at once. “This is … ridiculous.” He can’t look Tim in the eye right now. 

“Hmmmm,” Tim circles around, leaning behind Jon and Jon’s chair, laying a hand on on the desk, pinning Jon in place. “Bit of projection going on, Jon? Do you really want _me_ to bite _you_?”

Tim’s so close. Jon can’t hide the blush, try as he might, Tim is so close he can probably feel the warmth burning underneath Jon’s skin. 

“’Cause that can be arranged,” Tim whispers, his breath ghosting over Jon’s ear. “Like, really easily.”

Jon opens his mouth to protest, to deny, to make some comment to diffuse the situation. 

Instead what comes out is a needy, keening noise that Jon hasn’t made in quite some time. 

“Gonna need words, Jon.” Tim says. 

Jon mentally curses Tim for daring to be the _responsible one_ in this moment. He nods. “That. Yes.” 

“Good enough,” Tim reaches down and unbuttons the top row of buttons on Jon’s shirt. “I’m thinking here, what about you?” 

“ _Please_.” Jon prays this isn’t a joke because if it is he’s going to murder Tim and convince Sasha to help him hide Tim’s body in Artifact Storage. 

“Christ, that’s a pretty sound.” Tim murmurs, more to himself than to Jon. “Keep doing that.”

“Please.” Jon gulps and steadies himself as Tim starts to press lips to his neck. “Please, please, _please_!”

His voice breaks as Tim bites him. Tim is direct, not gentle but not brutal either. He’s determined and doesn’t shift even as Jon squirms in his grasp. One of Tim’s hands tangles in his hair and holds him in place and Jon sighs contentedly at the feeling. 

Tim hums briefly, seemingly timing the bite, and then breaks away. 

Jon slumps forward, holding the edge of the desk to steady himself even though he’s already sitting down. 

“You better cover that up.” Tim says. “Everyone can see it.”

Jon shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Tim turns red. “That’s … it’s _distracting_.” Tim shifts from foot to foot. 

“That sounds like your problem, Tim, not mine.” Jon smiles and turns back to the paperwork on his desk. 

Tim makes a strangled kind of noise and storms out. “Lunch break!” he declares, even though it’s only 11am. 

Jon waves him off and pokes at the mark. He hisses slightly at the pain and ultimately smiles. 

He takes great delight for the rest of the day poking at the mark and making soft sounds. Tim snaps two pens and drops a mug of tea before the day is through. 

3\. 

Jon was surprised, but willing, when Elias made the offer. He’s been so stressed, and physical contact does tend to relax him. Elias, refreshingly, has no assumptions of sexual contact to follow, and makes no demands. Jon locks the door and unbuttons his shirt in Elias’ office.

Elias _savages_ his throat. There’s no other word for it. The trail of bites and kisses is painful and exquisite, nearly sending Jon to his knees from the overwhelming sensations. It’s almost a necklace, red and raw marks blending from one to the next. 

“There you are … perfect.” Elias draws away. 

Jon buttons up his shirt and turns to look in the mirror on the wall. The marks are well hidden by his collar. The fabric brushing against them, even now, is electrifying. 

“Oh, Jon, one more thing.” Elias taps him on the shoulder. “I’ve been meaning to tell you, as Head Archivist you really ought to uphold the dress code a bit more. Set an example and all.” He holds up a sleek green tie. “May I?”

Jon gulps and nods. 

Elias reaches and loops the fabric around Jon’s neck. He tightens it and knots it, every movement, every caress, glancing off the marks on Jon’s skin. The marks that Elias left there. 

“I think my favorite is the one back here.” Elias muses, pressing his finger over the mark he made at the crest of Jon’s spine, where his neck begins. “Pity you can’t see it yourself.”

Downstairs, Tim takes one look at Jon’s face and whistles. 

“What was that for?” Martin asks Tim suspiciously. 

“Maybe you should ask Jon about it.” Tim grins. 

“Shut up, Tim.” Jon mutters, heading back to his desk. 

For the rest of the day, every minute shift, every turn of his head, makes the fabric rub against the marks. The pressure of the tie is a comforting sensation, Jon doesn’t know why he’s never considered wearing them more often but now he certainly will add them to his work wardrobe. At times Jon has to bite his lip so as to not groan at how _good_ it all feels. 

He swears he catches Tim smirking at him a few times, and outright stifling laughter after a particularly suspicious cough from Jon. 

4\. 

Daisy is restless. Jon has watched her pace the room all day, becoming more and more agitated. 

“Today is difficult.” Jon says at last, nearing mid-afternoon. It’s not a question. He’s very careful about asking questions these days. 

Daisy stops, freezing. She nods stiffly. “Yeah. Rough.” 

“If there’s anything I can do,” Jon says, choosing his words delicately. “I wish you would let me know.”

Daisy gives a curt not and returns to pacing. At one point she opens the door and bolts down the hallway. Jon can hear her, back and forth, back and forth, panting from the never-ending race. 

She returns just as Jon is about to get up and go to her. She’s slightly flushed, wiping sweat from her forehead, and still her body is twitching with excess energy. 

“I feel trapped here sometimes.” Jon says, pouring her water from the pitcher he’s taken to keeping in his office. “Stifled. Constricted.”

“It’s not …” Daisy makes a frustrated noise and drinks the water he offers her. “It’s not that. I’m not _trapped_ today I just … want to. You know.” She jerks her head. “ _Hunt_.”

Jon nods. 

“Want to hunt _you_.” Daisy’s voice has a bit of a growl to it as she admits that. “Was hunting you, for a while. Hard to shake that off.” 

Jon remembers the dark forest, the shallow grave, the gun, the knife, the stinging scrape along his throat. It had been terrifying then, before he knew anything, when he thought he was about to die. 

The memory of pain at his neck and Daisy tangles together and gives him the courage to speak up again. 

“Theoretically, I wonder if it would it help you to … well, catch me.”

Daisy looks at him in mild alarm. Then her expression shifts to one of consideration. “Never tried that before,” she murmurs, setting the water glass aside with deliberate precision to hide the shaking in her hands. “How would it work?”

“I don’t know.” Jon thinks back to dozens of statements, stories of men mostly, caught in an obsessive loop of chase and pursuit. “Do what feels right?”

Daisy scowls and shakes her head. “What feels ‘right,’ won’t end well for you.” She shifts from foot to foot. “Let’s take a run, you and me, up the hall. There and back.” 

Jon nods and follows her. They run down the empty hallway and pivot at the end, careening back to Jon’s office. Something prickles at the back of his neck. Daisy’s breathing is labored not from the running, but the sensation of holding something back. Deep-rooted human survival instincts flare and he runs faster. 

“Good! Faster!” Daisy growls behind him.

Jon reaches his office first, scrambling inside. Automatically he looks around for somewhere to hide, but there’s nowhere and hiding seems pointless with her so close. 

Daisy tackles him. Jon breaks his fall like she taught him, hissing in shock and a little pain – he’ll be sore tomorrow but nothing too bad. Daisy grapples onto him, straddling Jon and pinning him down. 

“Got you … clever fox …” Daisy seems to be talking to herself more than Jon. “Got you … got you … ran you down like a deer …” 

Those don’t sound like her words. Jon feels a spike of true fear now. Maybe this was a mistake. 

“Prey …” Daisy huffs a laugh. Her nails feel sharp on Jon’s arms, pricking at his skin through the fabric. “I can hear your prayers, prey … hear them in your blood …” she shivers, seeming to steady herself.

“Daisy?” Jon whispers. His heart is beating so fast, maybe she can hear it. 

“Mmmm,” Daisy nods slowly. “Still here. Still me.” She lays a hand over his heart. Her nails are short, blunt, painted a delicate blue. Not claws. “Your heart … it’s like a trapped rabbit, Jon.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “This was stupid.”

“Probably.” Jon shrugs. “What prayers?”

“Huh?”

“You said ‘prayers.’”

“Oh.” Daisy shakes her head distractedly. “When it gets close like that I can … hear? Sense? Not words exactly but, feelings?”

“Can you taste them?”

Daisy looks torn between queasy and hungry. “Sometimes.”

Jon tips his chin up and to the left.

Daisy freezes. “Jon … careful.”

“I trust you.” 

Daisy’s face softens. She pets his hair briefly, taking slow measured breaths. 

Jon breathes with her. His heart isn’t racing quite so fast anymore. 

“I might … break skin.” Daisy’s voice is so quiet Jon can barely hear her. 

“That’s ok.”

“Tap my shoulder and I’ll stop.”

“Understood.”

Daisy leans down. She presses a gentle kiss to Jon’s neck, just beneath his ear. She licks a long stripe down his throat, and then another, her teeth scraping against his skin. 

Jon can’t hold back a moan. 

Daisy stills, and then continues. She’s more forceful now. She bites hard on the soft, sensitive skin, more teeth than anything, but they aren’t fangs, and Daisy’s not holding him with claws. 

Her hands hesitate at the collar of his shirt. “Can I –”

“Yes.”

Daisy unbuttons him all the way, not tearing fabric or sending buttons flying. She scatters bites over his chest, licking and nuzzling between each. 

She grasps his belt. “Can I?”

He feels the old flicker of fear and dread, of having to explain to someone that no he doesn’t want what they’re offering. Jon shoves that line of thinking aside. “You can bite my thighs. That’s it.”

Daisy nods.

Jon unbuckles his belt and shifts his hips up as Daisy draws the fabric of his trousers down. She ignores the area past partners have seemed so fixated on and gently parts his legs, repeating her tactic on his inner thighs. 

“Relax.” Daisy says. “Breathe in … out …”

Jon tries. 

Daisy sinks her teeth into his leg. 

Jon stays still but howls, riding the wave of pain and pleasure as Daisy clings tightly to him.

When she sits up there’s a spot of blood on her lower lip. She licks it as he watches, and looks down at him. 

“Caught you.” She grins, with human teeth.

“You did.” Jon sits up shakily. “Did that …”

“Help? Yeah.” Daisy smiles slightly. “Helped you too, didn’t it?”

Jon feels his face heat. “Um …”

“I know it’s not like _that_.” Daisy waves a hand. “Still. Glad both of us got something out of it.”

Jon hums in agreement. “Anytime you … well.”

“I will.” Daisy promises. “Same goes for you.” 

Jon blinks, touched at the offer. “Thank you.”

Daisy nods, and helps him back to his feet. 

5\. 

“Martin there’s something you should know.” Jon says, after they’ve been in the cabin for a day. 

Martin looks sideways at him. “Jon, if this is about being asexual, I already –”

“No, I mean, yes, but …” Jon waves his hands in frustration. “There’s certain things I enjoy, and certain things I don’t enjoy.” He makes a weak attempt at a smile. “I’m sure you have preferences yourself. We both do. We should uh, talk about them.”

Martin nods. “I’ll make some tea.”

The tea was a good plan, because the following discussion is long and hesitant from both of them. They formulate a list. For now the columns are rather short, but that will change in time Jon hopes. 

Martin hesitates on the “kissing” placement. “It’s just ‘ok’ for you? Not a strong ‘yes?’”

Jon shrugs. “I’ve tried it, a fair bit. I’ll do it for a partner. It makes them happy and it doesn’t negatively impact me. But there’s other things I prefer to kissing.”

Martin frowns. “You shouldn’t feel obligated to. If you don’t like it.”

Jon’s been automatically slotting it into the “ok” column for years, without considering it could be moved. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Well, I’m a little disappointed I guess, but that’ll pass.” Martin shrugs. “I want _you_ Jon. On your own terms. Your own comfort. Whatever that ends up being.”

Jon blinks rapidly and moves “kissing” into the “no” column. “Well, uh … ok then.” He toys with the pencil. “We can revisit that later, of course.”

“Yeah, there’s things in my ‘no’ column I want to revisit later. Just … not right now.” Martin shivers, eyeing a series of words he’d written out earlier. Words that make Jon want to smite Peter Lukas from existence all over again. 

Jon sets his hand on the table, not touching Martin, but beside his hand. Martin takes Jon’s hand and squeezes his fingers firmly. 

“So, what other things?” Martin asks, as the moment passes. 

“What?”

“What things, do you prefer, to kissing?” Martin’s eyes are shining. 

“Like …” Jon tries to think of Martin, sweet gentle careful Martin, and biting hard enough to leave marks. It’s difficult to reconcile in his head. “… biting.”

Martin perks up. “Whoa, really?”

“Yes.” 

Martin grins. “Write it down.”

Jon does, glancing at Martin as he does so. Martin’s demeanor has changed to a thrumming excitement. 

“Martin?”

“Can I unbutton your shirt? Is that ok?” Martin asks in a rush. 

Jon nods. 

Martin gently unbuttons his shirt, eyeing some of the scars with pained concern, before returning to his former energetic attitude. “Let me know if this isn’t what you want, ok?” 

“I will.” 

Martin traces over Jon’s chest with his hands, before finally settling on his collarbone. He presses his thumbs into the sore muscles just below the hollow of Jon’s throat. 

Jon gasps, head tipping back. 

“You … you …” Martin mutters, fingers stroking along Jon’s skin from shoulder to shoulder. “I’ve wanted … and you … and I …” 

Jon doesn’t try and make sense of the scraps of words. He relaxes into the moment, wherever Martin is taking them. 

Martin starts to rub small circles into Jon’s skin. Then he shifts closer and leans his face against Jon’s chest. 

The first bite is gentle, exactly what Jon had been expecting from Martin. The barest scrape of teeth, the warm press of lips and tongue. Jon settles and waits, hoping Martin will linger on the spot and leave him a mark to treasure for the next few days. 

Martin releases and shifts over to the opposite side of Jon’s collarbone. He bites there next, harder this time, seemingly finding his pace. 

Jon makes a pleased noise, and Martin reaches to tangles his fingers with Jon’s. 

“You can go harder,” Jon says, as Martin shifts for the third bite. “I’m not going to break.”

Martin looks at him idly and then latches _hard_ , sharp and perfect. Jon groans in delight. 

By the end, Martin’s left a sweeping curve of marks along Jon’s chest. They resemble a red, bruised necklace more than anything else. 

“So,” Martin says, snuggling against Jon. “I don’t think the ‘no kissing’ thing is going to be a problem for me.”

Jon huffs a laugh. “That’s excellent news.” 

“Maybe uh, you could bite me later?” Martin asks. “If that’s ok? Would you like that?”

Jon wonders what sorts of sounds Martin will make if he’s bitten. “I’d love to find out.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] 5 Times People Bit Jon (And He Enjoyed It)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27021355) by [lonelylighthousekeeper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonelylighthousekeeper/pseuds/lonelylighthousekeeper)




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